The mirror friends

It has been nearly 9 weeks since my 42 year old brother had a massive stroke. My relationship with my parents is in turmoil because of their judgements upon me in connection to the situation.

My friend and I have this thing: we talk about being mirror friends. We say, "tell me honestly what you see when you look at me. As I look into your eyes, the way I look deeply into my own eyes in a mirror, tell me what is joyful, graceful and real. Tell me what is angry, judgemental and fake. Call me on my shit. I’m open to it." I can be open to what my friend has to say. Why? Because the observations he makes comes from a place of love WITHOUT JUDGEMENT. The mirror a person holds up, if it is to help me change my behavior, must not be wavy, stretchy, or skewed. It must be a pure reflection of unconditional love. The mirror must be free from scratches filled with pain. The looking glass can not have smears of past hurts and blames. The reflection must not stretch me tall, squash me flat, puff me fat or make me dizzy with wavy guilt-ridden issues. I AM enough. I KNOW I am enough. My true friends see that and guide me on my journey to constant self improvement with consolidated love. When my parents can see that about me too - and perhaps when I can see it about them - much healing will commence.

Because it's never really about the BBQ sauce

Its dinner time and we gather around thick Iowa pork chops with baked potatoes and steamed asparagus. It’s a glorious Memorial Day weekend at my mom’s cabin. I reach across the dinner table to grab the BBQ sauce that came from my mom’s refrigerator. There is about 1 inch of thick liquid at the bottom of the clear plastic bottle and I wonder what the expiration date is. My brother Alan picks up my inquisitive thought and examines the top and sides. Humm, no date. Oh, there it is on the bottom, nearly scratched off. “January 2007,” he read aloud. We gave each other a smile and put the bottle back down on the table, choosing not to dispense 2007 BBQ sauce onto our 2008 pork chops.

Suddenly, mom leaped away from the refrigerator and said, “Here Deb, here is the sour cream…do you want to check THAT date? Or HERE check the butter to make sure THAT is not expired!”

What had triggered her to express her bottled up feelings about…a bottle of BBQ sauce? But it’s not really about the BBQ sauce now is it? Nor condiments for that matter. Alan noted the expiration date out loud. But, I took the hit.

Is it about respect? Tolerance? Patience? What is it really about? Honesty? What is it really about? The insecurities? The pressure to be something we both are not? If it is not about the BBQ sauce, then I guess it is a relationship issue that may never expire.